


Seven Minutes

by blithelybonny



Series: Do You Want To Play A Game? [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Party Games, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry would never back away from a challenge, especially not when faced with the prospect of himself and Malfoy, alone in a cupboard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Minutes

The word ‘impossible’ had deleted itself from his vocabulary, if ever it existed at all. Rather, he thought, like the word ‘apologize’ in Malfoy’s. The task he set himself was not an impossibility therefore, but merely highly unlikely. An improbability. A remote, scant chance. 

A challenge.

Harry supposed he had never been one to back away from a challenge, rather literally when he was a child facing down dragons and Dark Lords and certainly not now when faced with the prospect of Malfoy and himself, alone in a cupboard.

He saw the spark of defiance in Malfoy’s eyes that melted into concern and curiosity, as the door shut behind them, blocking out the teasing and the laughter. Shutting them off from the game, even as they sunk into it together.

Harry flicked his wand and allowed them a bit of light. He wanted to be able to see Malfoy. He wanted to watch for that moment, the moment he recalled in terrifying and vivid detail: the moment Malfoy’s veneer flickered and revealed something desperate and real underneath.

Harry had seen it before, several times before even, though never so close and terrifying as the moment Malfoy pulled back from their first kiss. The way his eyes had been, for that one precious moment, clear of anything other than naked desire before the inevitable locking up of his truth behind the walls and layers of protection necessary for him to survive in a post-war world that distrusted his every move, no matter what the courts might have said.

Malfoy wanted to ask so badly; Harry could see it in those searching grey eyes. Malfoy wanted almost desperately to ask why Harry had even agreed to this rather than take the silly penalty assigned to those who refused their turn. But he wouldn’t speak first because to do so would be to give up the power, and if there was something that Malfoy had always craved, it was power.

Harry took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Malfoy’s breath hitched in his throat and he swayed forward, unconsciously perhaps. Harry knew Malfoy had been in this position before, of course. He was a popular partner for this game, and he always emerged from the cupboard with a wicked smirk and a restless air, eager for another turn, another person he could debauch without having it turned back around on himself. Because those were the rules of the game: safe, simple.

But nothing was ever simple, especially not between them. Rarely was it safe either.

Once, Harry would have given anything for safe and simple. He would have given anything to go to school like a normal boy, make normal friends and struggle over normal things like homework and career choices. But everything had changed so drastically that the simplicity of all those things he thought he’d ever wanted held no thrall. Safety had become boredom.

Harry took another step forward and put his hands on the wall behind Malfoy’s head. He leaned his face up as Malfoy fell back against the wall, his eyes wide and searching for the trick. Harry couldn’t help but smile because there was no trick, not this time.

Was this the same person that grinned cheekily at every insinuation about his late nights out? The same arrogant, unsettling prat who enjoyed accolades for his prowess, no matter the implication of his behavior? The same hateful boy who had insinuated himself inexorably into Harry’s life from the moment Harry had step foot in the wizarding world and proved himself time and again to be someone Harry had no desire to know?

Was the person before him, quivering and suddenly breathless, the same person that had destroyed everything Harry had ever known about himself with one ridiculous kiss?

Who the fuck was Draco Malfoy anyway?

His lips hovered over Malfoy’s own, and he forced himself to keep his eyes open, uncaring that he might have gone cross-eyed. He had to see. He could feel Malfoy’s need vibrating in that bare space between their lips, but he had to see it too. It was all Harry wanted in that moment: to see Malfoy fall apart.

He took one hand from the wall and slipped it between their bodies. His knees nearly buckled at the ferocity of Malfoy’s desirous gasp, but he managed to remain upright. Harry pushed Malfoy’s robes apart and began to work at a button on his shirt.

Harry ran his tongue between his lips, slowly from side to side and grinned as Malfoy moaned desperately, aching for contact. Malfoy tried to surge forward, just as Harry worked open the button, but Harry denied him. Malfoy would have to earn this kiss. He would have to give Harry what he wanted, and then Harry would give it back in return. Mutually-assured destruction.

His hand slid up and undid another button, practiced now. Malfoy exhaled sharply and his hands finally came up and settled at Harry’s hips. Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly, before he bracketed Malfoy’s legs with his own. No distance between them but the barrier of Harry’s hand in Malfoy’s shirt and the hair’s breadth between their lips.

Malfoy shivered as Harry’s searching fingers slipped past the starched cotton of Malfoy’s shirt and found heated skin. He splayed his palm over Malfoy’s stomach and leaned impossibly closer still, shifting to let his nose ghost along the sensitive skin behind Malfoy’s ear. 

No, not impossibly… _improbably_.

Harry breathed in, and Malfoy’s body wracked with the force of his need. He pushed close into Harry’s hand, and Harry let it slip down, just so, just enough to feel the jump of Malfoy’s lower abdominal muscles in his fingertips.

What was to happen now? What would this end up being? Would it be just another of Malfoy’s endless conquests? Another tick-mark on his list of people to utterly ruin, if only for a moment? 

If only for seven minutes.

Harry stepped back, and the door opened.

**Author's Note:**

> Return to my Livejournal [here](http://blithelybonny.livejournal.com/111275.html).


End file.
